


the anatomy of kim myungjun

by parkjinchu



Series: body [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Anatomy, Body Image, Body Positive, Body Worship, Love, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: It was true. Everything that made up Myungjun, all these little lines and curves and details, these factors that made him whole. The suit his soul survived in. Jinwoo loved every single ounce of it, especially his delightful mind and heart.this is a work of fiction, and in no way represents the real lives of astro's members. in case of astro/fantagio/reasonable fan request, this fic will be taken downread full disclaimer on my profile





	the anatomy of kim myungjun

**Author's Note:**

> this was really really fun for me to write. it started out as an experiment to improve on my body description but i got really into it and decided to turn it into a love story. anyway, i hope you enjoy it!

He observes, late one night, the moon’s light gliding in through the open window, the gentle sounds of night time echoing in the dim room. Myungjun is asleep, body splayed out on their sheets, bathed in the pale glow of the stars. Gorgeous. Jinwoo lay silently beside him, insomnia gnawing at his eyelids, as he watches his lover. Takes in every detail, every divot and bump, every twitch and shuffle. Let’s all that Kim Myungjun is stain memories on his brain, sepia toned like the coffee stain he’d left on Jinwoo’s table cloth.

Myungjun; short, a little soft around the edges, moulds perfectly against Jinwoo’s sharper angles. Here he lay, one arm stretched above his head, the other between them on the mattress. Face smooth and golden like the underside of a new coin, fluttering softly as he rests. This Summer night, crickets calling and the first of Autumn’s cool bite winding through the breeze; he wears an old band t-shirt from his late teens and a pair of Jinwoo’s underwear.

Jinwoo reminisces as he works his way up examining Myungjun’s body. Starting at his feet, not particularly spectacular nor disgusting. The older boy had been embarrassed by them at first, refusing to take his socks off for the first two months of their relationship. It had made Jinwoo laugh, trying to chase after Myungjun and pull them off, or seeing his clothed feet when they made love, when every other inch of their body was revealed. He didn’t mention it when Myungjun got out of the shower one morning, sans socks. From then on, there was no longer a problem.

What follows is Myungjun’s legs. Short, well built. Defined and muscular. They were soft, almost hairless, baby wisps of hair decorating his legs. His ankles and knees were a little bulbous, bulging out of his skin just a tiny bit. These legs, Jinwoo recognises, the legs that took them walking on their first date, to the cinemas; _I’ll walk you back to your apartment_. These legs, that rest on Jinwoo’s lap every night, as they sit on the couch and watch television, Myungjun’s calves soft under the pads of Jinwoo’s finger tips. These legs, that wrapped around the younger boy’s waist, absorbed in ecstasy late at night.

Up to his hips, those delicious curves. The round bones of his hips that poke up slightly, the arch of his delightful bottom, the length of his sex between his legs. There were few memories evoked from such a place, besides erotic daydreams and sexual fantasies. Jinwoo’s hands on his swinging hips, in the dark corner of the nightclubs, drinking up alcohol and Myungjun’s flirtatious behaviour. The rush to unclip the button of his jeans, his fingers and tongue running wherever they can reach, caught up in the desperation. Or, the more peaceful memories – the candle-lit love making on their night of their anniversary, veins drowning in champagne and rose petals scattered across their sheets. The bones of his hips stained with Jinwoo’s chap-stick, with ‘I love you’s and _memories_.

Then, his stomach. A little round, not defined like Jinwoo’s is. It’s soft, creases when he leans over or curls into Jinwoo’s side. For a long while, he was so self-conscious of it, refused to take off his shirt. Jinwoo hadn’t minded, in fact, found it adorable. He’d press kisses into the soft, baby skin there, trace his fingers over the little patch of hair that hovered beneath the little bowl of his belly button.

Along Myungjun’s back, the ripple of his spine, the angel wings un-grown of his ribs. Of the dim stretch of his muscles when he reaches to grab things from the top of the cupboard, on his tip-toes in the grocery store to reach the highest shelf. The dimple at the bottom of his spine, shallow, but easily felt, letting Jinwoo prod two fingers against it. The freckles along his shoulder blades, just barely there, scattered like the stars in the sky. Jinwoo explicitly remembers a night they spent with an old blanket, laid out upon a hill, watching the stars. He can trace the distinct replication of _Cassiopeia_ into Myungjun’s left shoulder blade, that wide stretching ‘M’ shape they’d seen above them that night.

He has short arms, not particularly strong, but sophisticated. The small divot beneath his muscles, only mildly trained. The thin forest of hair beneath his armpit, wiry and dark. His wrists, thin and delicate. Those hands, Jinwoo loves those precious hands. Elegant, fingers long and thin, something carved meticulously from marble. Palm smooth like a child’s, though creased with years of experience. Life lines, dream lines, his alleged tale, all carved into the palms of his hands. He holds his coffee mug in the morning, fingers wrapped around the warmth. Runs them through Jinwoo’s hair, cups them around Jinwoo’s chin when he brings them together to kiss, holds Jinwoo’s own body in those sweet digits. His hand is a perfect fit in Myungjun’s, the perfect size, lacing together effortlessly; as if their bodies were destined to come together.

Myungjun’s collarbones are a dream. Prominent, long and straight, smooth. Many nights they’ve been gloriously tattooed with love bites, painted pink and purple, mottled splashes of love. Laden with kisses, licks and strokes. The cup of his breastbone, that little bow in the centre of his chest, shifts in size when he laughs. Same with his neck, a strong column, the bulb of his Adam’s Apple sharp and poignant. Often decorated with lines of bites like jewels on a necklace.

Over the curve of his chin, the perfect shallow parabola, the sharp slice of his jawline. The length of Myungjun’s nose, soft and round at the end, smoothing onto his forehead at the top. The shells of his ears, the ridges like velvet to the touch. His unpierced lobes, _Should I pierce them, like yours, Jinwoo?_ The hair on his head, as gentle as fleece, faint scent of coconut shampoo and sweat. Many days spent braided, dotted with flowers on dates, kissed, and pulled, and pet.

One of Jinwoo’s favourite features of Myungjun’s: his glowing eyes. With little valleys in the corners from years of laughter, crinkles in his eyelids. They shone in the happiest of times, that sweet chocolate brown glistening. On these days, they seemed to have gold spun inside, collected from the sun itself. Other days, where he cried softly into the shoulder of Jinwoo’s t-shirt, shape sagging and puffy. They were still beautiful, even wet and pink and stinging. Kissed better by Jinwoo’s lips. When Myungjun slept peacefully, as he was now, his long eyelashes fluttered, dreams playing on reel behind the shut of his lids. Jinwoo could only imagine what fantastical and wild imaginations occurred, then; sometimes Myungjun wakes in the morning, tired eyes swollen and puffy, retelling those tales to Jinwoo’s eager ears.

Finally, Myungjun’s lips. Those magnificent lips; carved from the Goddesses themselves in marble. Plump, pink, pretty. Round and delightful, the perfect bow on his top lip, a cupid’s ideal. Many memories stained those lips – kisses, bites, meals. Their first date, a small café in the quieter part of town, stained a chocolate colour on the inside from his favourite hot chocolate. Their first kiss, daring and courageous, tingling with fantasies and desire, but sweet enough to rival the loveliest romance film. Each and every kiss – a quick peck as they part for work, or lust filled and wet – held the same feeling, _love_.

It was true. Everything that made up Myungjun, all these little lines and curves and details, these factors that made him whole. The suit his soul survived in. Jinwoo loved every single ounce of it, especially his delightful mind and heart.

Myungjun shifts, in his sleep, curling closer into Jinwoo’s side. His heart speeds up a little, as if they’d never touched before, as if it were the first time.

He wonders, briefly, as sleep clutches onto him, if he’s kissed every spot on Myungjun’s body. If he hasn’t, he’d make it his life’s mission; to love Myungjun, in his entirety, inside and out.

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it? i hope you did :) feel free to hit me up! lets cry over astro together ;) you can find me on tumblr and twitter under the username 'parkjinchu' <3


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